Looking Forward
by JamesLuver
Summary: With their first New Year as a reunited married couple upon them, Anna and John make plans for their future.


**A/N:** And here's my first post of 2013. Uh, yeah.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

_Looking Forward_

"So, Anna, what are the big plans downstairs for the New Year? Are there any?"

Anna glanced up briefly from adjusting Lady Mary's hair, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Not really, milady. We're just doing the usual. But that doesn't bother me. It's nice to have a bit of routine."

"And you're bound to enjoy this New Year, aren't you? What with you and Bates being together?"

Anna's smiled softened as she thought about it. "Oh, yes, milady. We're both very much looking forward to it. As I expect you and Mr. Matthew are."

Lady Mary's smile was equally wistful. "We certainly are. It will be a nice change this year, I think."

Anna had to agree with her: it would make for a lovely change in dynamics. In all of the previous New Years that she had shared with Mr. Bates at Downton Abbey, they had never had one quite like this one. They had always been expected to stay resolutely within the lines of propriety. In the beginning, they had shared secret, longing smiles and a clink of their glasses as they'd wished each other a Happy New Year. During the years that their attachment to each other had been acknowledged, they had been permitted to an affectionate hug. Last year had been the worst possible start to the New Year, with her husband's trial hanging over their heads like the hangman's noose, and Anna hadn't even been able to stand the thought of being downstairs amongst the happiness, hadn't been able to bear the idea that the others would have to reign in their own hopes and joy in case it was seen as disrespectful to her. Instead, she'd seen the New Year in alone, just like he had, staring morosely out of her tiny bedroom window, tears staining her face an ugly crimson, wondering if he was gazing desperately up at the sky too, wondering if they could be connected on that basic level by the flimsiest of all ties.

"Though, of course, it's going to be terribly sad without…without Sybil here."

Lady Mary's words matched the morose shadow that had settled over Anna's shoulders. Oh, yes. This New Year was going to be as laced with sadness as it was with joy. While it would mark the first New Year that Lady Mary and Mr. Matthew had shared as husband and wife, it would also mark the beginning of a new year without Lady Sybil. It was a sobering thought. Anna immediately felt selfish for wallowing in self-pity. She had John back with her now, didn't she? And there Mr. Branson would be, all alone, forever separated from the woman that he loved.

"It will certainly be terribly sad without Lady Sybil," she agreed softly.

"But she wouldn't want us to be downhearted at New Year," continued Lady Mary after a brief moment's pause. "She would want us to be happy. I know that it's going to be difficult, but we should see it as a celebration of her life rather than a mourning of her death."

"That's very wise," agreed Anna. "And I'm sure it will be lovely."

"Yes," Lady Mary mused, then lapsed back into contemplative silence. Anna left her to her thoughts. Lady Mary was right. They should remember the good times that they had shared with Lady Sybil, not dwell on the bad. And perhaps that was something that Anna could relate to. It was far from being the same thing…but she herself should stop dwelling on the memories of her husband's trial, of the terror and uncertainty that she'd felt surrounding his imprisonment, the way that their separation had worn her down. Because those were memories of a year that was gone. And now they had a new one to look forward to.

And this year would be completely different. Anna couldn't wait to make some good memories for both her and John to enjoy. After all that they had been through, they deserved whatever they could get.

"I'll see you after midnight, Anna," Lady Mary said as Anna gathered her things together. "Enjoy the celebrations downstairs."

"I will, milady. You too."

Anna slipped out of the room with a grin on her face, skipping down the hallway and descending the stairs with a spring in her step until she reached the servants' hall. A quick glance around told her that John had not yet finished with his lordship, so she settled herself down in her seat and waited for him to appear.

He wasn't long. She heard the familiar tap of his cane against the flagstones and glanced up from her hands as she listened to it drawing ever closer. He appeared in the doorway barely a few seconds later, and she grinned happily as his eyes met hers. The same expression spread slowly across his face too, and he lumbered towards her easily.

"Hello," he said as he reached her side.

"Hello," she echoed with a silly grin, taking his hand in hers under the table when he'd settled himself down. "Are you all right?"

"I'm all right now that I'm down here with you," he replied in a low voice, squeezing her fingers. "I've missed you today."

She sighed. That was one of the curses of working in service. There were some days when she didn't see him again until they were falling into bed, exhausted, at the end of the day. "I've missed you too. But at least we have all evening together."

"Well, I'm certainly not going to complain about that," he said. "I can't think of anything better than sitting next to you all night, just waiting for a New Year to start for the both of us. I have a feeling that it will be the best year we've ever experienced."

"I have the same feeling," she confided softly. "And it's about time. We deserve it."

"We certainly do," he agreed. "I'm certainly not going to dispute it."

"Well, that's one good thing," she teased. "I was half-expecting you to start saying that you don't deserve this good fortune."

"I think I've had enough bad fortune to last me a lifetime," he said with a low chuckle. "And _you_ certainly don't deserve any more."

"Then let's hope that this year will more than make up for the bad fortune that we've had over the last few."

He squeezed her fingers tighter. "It will."

They were interrupted then by the arrival of the other servants, and soon after that, dinner was served. Anna and John exchanged affectionate smiles and joined in the conversation with the others, happy that they could finally spend a New Year's Eve together and content, as husband and wife, as it always should have been.

* * *

Dinner passed in a great bout of festive cheer. Mr. Carson allowed the wine to flow – although not enough for any of them to become inebriated – and the conversation grew louder and freer with every sip that passed. Anna and John enjoyed the conversations about what the New Year would mean to all of them, sharing secret smiles between them as they thought of their own New Year, and of the endless happy days that were to come now that they were reunited once more.

When the dinner dishes had been cleared away, everyone gathered once more in the servants' hall. The younger servants migrated together at one end of the table, Jimmy and Alfred vying for Ivy's attention while Daisy looked on moodily, and Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore, Mr. Carson, Miss O'Brien and Thomas sat together at the opposite end. The latter two were smoking. The relations between them were still frosty, but thankfully they weren't trading insults. Anna and John sat, for the moment, caught between the two groups, lost in a world of their own. Their chairs were turned towards each other. Their hands were clasped tightly out of sight under the table. They only had eyes for each other, murmuring quietly together in soft voices, sharing smiles and the occasional laugh. No one was paying any attention to them, with the exception of Mrs. Hughes, whose smile was motherly every time she glanced over, and Miss O'Brien, whose reaction was the polar opposite – her scowl and frequent mutterings of how disgusting their behaviour waswas obviously causing Mr. Carson much alarm, for he kept glancing over to ensure that scandalous activities were not being committed on the servants' hall table.

Oblivious to this, Anna and John continued on as they were. The way that she was biting her lip and smiling and stroking his fingers in her lap was making him fervently wish that he could be alone with her. Knowing that he couldn't act on any of his feelings, he cleared his throat loudly and tried to rearrange his facial expression into one that didn't look as if he was lusting rather heartily after his wife, even if it was true. Noticing the expression on his face, Anna cocked her head to one side.

"What's the matter?" she asked innocently. "You're looking a bit flushed."

"I'm fine," he said quickly. "Honestly."

"You're sure?" Her naivety was endearing.

Luckily, John was spared the embarrassment of answering again by Jimmy standing up at the other end of the table.

"Mr. Carson?" he called.

"What is it, James?"

"We were just wondering if it would be all right to have a bit of a dance."

"A dance!?" Mr. Carson looked horrified. "Here, in the servants' hall!?"

"Yes, Mr. Carson. It's a bit of fun."

Mr. Carson looked more horrified than ever at the mention of the word _fun_, but Mrs. Hughes smoothly took the reins.

"Of course, James," she said. "If it will keep you in good spirits, then why not?"

Jimmy grinned, looking pleased with himself. Ivy beamed at him adoringly. Behind her, Alfred scowled. Clearly he was not amused with Ivy's fawning. And, judging from her glowering, Daisy was equally unimpressed by Alfred's. The servants had to push the table back a little in order to give themselves more room to dance (Mr. Carson was positively red in the face by this point, and Anna hoped that he wouldn't cause himself any damage), before Jimmy settled himself down in front of the piano, much to Ivy's dismay. She was forced to accept Alfred's invitation to dance, watched by a horrified Daisy, and they began the proceedings with a lively, if slightly clumsy Grizzly Bear. Some of the other maids and hall boys followed suit soon afterwards, and it wasn't long before the servants' hall was alive with the sound of music and laughter.

"That's a merry old sight, isn't it?" John asked in a low voice, watching the couples dance together.

"It certainly is," Anna agreed. "There's nothing like a bit of dancing. It always cheers me right up."

John smiled at that, recalling Anna in the servants' balls of past. It was true; she had always come alive when she had been allowed to dance. There was something so becoming about seeing her flushed and smiling and excited. Watching her from one of the tables, he would take great delight in the way that even though she was dancing with someone else, her eyes would always find his. And he was so grateful for the fact that this year he would be able to take her home at the end of the night, to let her know how much seeing her so happy affected him. He could hardly wait for that.

"I'd like to dance," she said suddenly, breaking his train of thought.

"What?"

She smirked. "Are you going deaf? I said that I'd like to dance."

"Well, I'm not stopping you. I'm sure one of the hall boys would be glad to indulge you."

"Indulge me?" she giggled. "You make it sound like a chore!"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I know. But come on, Mr. Bates," she said with the smallest hint of a cheeky grin, "I want to dance with my husband tonight."

"I thought you already knew that my dancing skills are less than satisfactory," he told her, trying to soften his words with a gentle smile of his own. "And besides, isn't it best to leave the dancing down here to the young ones?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, though her tone was playful. "Are you trying to insinuate that I'm not young anymore, Mr. Bates?"

"Of course not," he said hurriedly. "You are still so young and far too beautiful. But I'm an old man, and I'd rather not make a fool of myself in front of those who are far more capable than I."

She huffed in loving exasperation. "Mr. Bates, you are being ridiculous and impossible. No one is going to think you a fool for dancing. And we don't have to dance like Alfred and Ivy are. We can…sway, if you'd like."

"Sway?" His tone was amused. "But that wouldn't really be typical of the music."

"Well," she murmured, "I've never been a typical woman."

His intake of breath was sharp then, and she allowed her eyes to dance wickedly with the double meaning of her words.

"No," he murmured in reply, "you haven't."

"So will you dance with me?"

"Anna…"

"Come on," she said in that wheedling voice that he couldn't resist. "I don't ask much of you. And I think I should be rewarded for being so patient waiting for you."

He hid a smile, knowing that she was only bringing it up in jest, that she didn't begrudge him at all for making her wait – though of course she should have done. Once those words were uttered, he knew that he would have to surrender, so he continued to resist more for his pride's sake, not wanting to appear to give in too easily. "But what if the others object? They might not want our dancing spoiling their fun – I lost my elegance a long time ago."

Anna's smile was impish as she promptly turned away from him to call across the room. "Mrs. Hughes?"

The housekeeper, who had been deep in conversation with Mr. Carson, glanced in Anna's direction with a smile. "Yes, Anna?"

"Would you mind terribly if Mr. Bates and I were to dance?"

"Dance?" Mrs. Hughes looked momentarily surprised, but she quickly masked it. "Of course not. I didn't know you danced though, Mr. Bates."

"Neither did I," he muttered. "Not until now."

"What about you, Mr. Carson?" asked Anna.

The butler heaved a sigh. "Not if that's what you want."

Her grinned widened. "Thank you." She turned back to her husband then. "See? No one minds if we dance."

"Well, I'm certain some would," he murmured, glancing down the table to find Miss O'Brien staring at them with a look caught between disgust and nasty amusement, but he relented when he saw the glow in his wife's eyes. "Oh, for heaven's sake, go on then."

Her smile was gleeful as she leapt to her feet and offered him her hand, just as Jimmy struck up a new tune on the piano. "Can I tempt you for this dance, Mr. Bates?"

He sighed in self-sacrifice as he placed his hand in hers and allowed her to pull him to his feet. "It would be an honour, Mrs. Bates."

He hooked his cane over the back of his chair and allowed her to lead him forward towards the other dancing couples. Their moves looked rather dangerous, John thought nervously. He would never be able to dance with Anna like that. He hoped that she wasn't expecting too much of him, and that she wouldn't be disappointed with his sadly very lacking skills.

She stopped them at the edge of the makeshift dance floor, turning around so that she could look at him properly, her eyes shining. "Shall we, Mr. Bates?"

"Certainly," he said, tentatively linking the fingers of his right hand with the fingers of her left. She stepped closer to him, pushing her little body up against his, causing him to inhale sharply. God, he had never been this close to her before in such an open space. The sensation was heady. He closed his eyes and tried to get his body back under his control. He wasn't an adolescent schoolboy anymore; he was a fully grown man. He could control his baser instincts. He was more dignified than that.

Her grin was still bright as she let her spare hand rest against his shoulder, fingertips just shy of caressing his neck. He shuddered in her arms, hoping that the way she affected him wasn't too obvious to any of the others. He just couldn't help it. Anna was a siren, a nymph, a perfect faery, the kind of woman who could lead him into temptation with the click of her fingers or the toss of her head.

"You need to put your arm around my waist, Mr. Bates," she purred, and he did so mechanically, still rather overwhelmed by the fact that he was truly there, standing in her arms in front of all of the other servants as husband and wife, about to share their first ever dance together.

Jimmy's new tune was still too fast for John to ever have a hope of keeping up with, and the other dancing female servants around him began to shriek with mirth as their male counterparts began to swing them round faster and faster. Anna didn't seem to notice any of it, not even when Ivy almost toppled right into her side. She appeared to be too focused on staring into his face, her bright blue eyes sparkling. Slowly, very slowly, she began to sway, stepping leisurely in a rhythm that was completely their own. John was powerless to do anything but follow her lead, grasping her fingers tightly and trying to make his feet move in the same places that hers were. Not for the first time, he cursed the fact that he had been shot, cursed the way that his limp left him looking odd and lumbering. Anna was as elegant as ever as she moved in his arms, but he knew that he looked absolutely ridiculous, attempting to follow her lead and failing miserably. He hoped that no one was watching them. He wanted to glance around the room to make sure, but Anna's eyes held him captive, hypnotising him.

"You're not as bad as you think," she murmured as she stepped deftly to the side, turning them in a circle.

"You're only saying that to boost my confidence," he murmured in reply, letting his fingers stroke against her clothed side. She shivered at the sensation, pushing her body even closer. He suppressed the urge to groan aloud.

"Believe me," she said, "there's no one on earth I'd rather be dancing with."

He turned them awkwardly, letting his fingers caress hers, hoping that he wasn't going to stand on her toes with his clumsy steps. "I'm glad."

"Well, there's no one on earth I'd rather be dancing with since Mr. Molesley isn't in the room right now," she amended lowly in his ear, grinning cheekily. "But perhaps he can sweep me off my feet when he arrives."

"Would he be daring enough to?" John teased in reply. "Seducing a married woman away from her wedding vows with the promise of a dance seems terribly vulgar."

She giggled at the thought of Mr. Molesley ever being seductive. "Well, his footwork might be enough to turn my head. I'm only human, after all."

He turned them again, wincing a little as he stumbled. "If his dancing is anything like his cricket playing skills, I'd wager that you'd be in for a big disappointment."

She giggled again, letting her fingers stroke against the skin at the back of his neck, combing through the fine hairs there, barely focusing on where she was putting her feet. "What if I found his lack of dancing skills endearing?"

"Then you must be easily pleased."

"I find _your_ lack of dancing skills endearing, don't I? You should be thankful that I'm so easy to please in that regard."

He chuckled at that, following her lead as she backed up and span. "And what about in other regards?"

She flushed at his implied meaning, glad that he was speaking low enough for his words to carry no further than her. "Well, that's for you to decide. But you never disappoint me."

"Glad to hear it," he murmured, stumbling again as she attempted to pirouette – rather too adventurous for his limited talent. Her gaze was heated, and he wanted to do nothing more than to pull her even closer and drop his mouth onto hers, losing himself in her taste and her touch. But that was impossible in the current situation, so he forced his hand to stay planted firmly on her waist, his head a respectable distance away from hers. Her eyes were shining brightly, and he could read the desire in her gaze, hot and fresh. Oh God. It wasn't helping that they were dancing so close, her breasts brushing against his chest, her tongue darting out to wet her lips –

The music ended then with a final resonating note, and all of the dancers collapsed, exhausted, into each other's arms. After a brief moment of quiet, Jimmy struck up a new tune, and the dancing began anew for the foxtrot, Daisy elbowing Ivy out of the way so that she could take Alfred by the hand. Anna, however, released her grip on his shoulders and stepped away from him.

"Have I tired you out already?" he teased her, knowing that the flush on her cheeks had nothing to do with their dancing.

"You have rather," she replied. "Thank you for a lovely dance, Mr. Bates." She dropped into a quick curtsey before moving in the direction of the servants' table again, this time sitting herself down next to Mrs. Hughes. John followed her at once, taking the seat on his wife's other side.

"You looked like you enjoyed that," the housekeeper commented as they settled themselves down.

"We did," Anna said, looking to John for agreement.

John nodded. "We certainly did."

Anna smiled at him then, bright and beautiful. It lit up his world with the promise of the perfect year that was to come.

* * *

They spent the rest of the evening chatting with the older members of the staff, while the younger ones flitted between dancing and talking loudly. At one point, Jimmy had dared Alfred to sing to impress Ivy, but that had quickly been put down by an irate Carson, who had declared that they hadn't turned into a circus just yet, and he certainly didn't intend for it to happen now. Anna and John had simply shared secret grins, especially when Mrs. Hughes rolled her eyes with fond exasperation.

And, all the while, the New Year crept closer.

When it got to five to twelve, the servants began to stir with excitement. It was almost time. Glasses were fetched from the kitchen, along with a couple of bottles of wine. The talk grew louder. Everyone began to gather together.

"Has everyone got a glass?" Mr. Carson asked as he watched Daisy and Mrs. Patmore make their way around the room with a tray.

John declined the wine in favour of a glass of water – he wouldn't dare take a drop, not even on New Year's Eve – and beside him, Anna did the same, smiling softly at his questioning look.

"You can drink if you want to," he said.

"I don't," she replied.

"Anna, you mustn't feel as if you have to not drink on my behalf."

She smirked at him. "Mr. Bates, trust me. If I wanted to drink, I would."

He smiled in return, risking touching her hand briefly. "Well, I certainly can't accuse you of not knowing your own mind."

"It's what you get when you don't marry the typical woman."

"I don't want the typical woman if she's not you," he growled lowly.

Anna's cheeks flushed at his statement, and she bit her lip hard, loving the sincere look in his eyes. She opened her mouth to answer, but they were interrupted then as the clock struck midnight. They all cheered and turned to clink their glasses with the people around them. Choruses of _Happy New Year_ rang loudly round as people exchanged smiles and a bit of inherent disbelief that they'd somehow managed to survive the changes of 1920.

"Happy New Year, Mrs. Bates," John murmured as he turned to face his wife. Her eyes were dancing with pure love as she looked up into his face.

"Happy New Year, Mr. Bates," she echoed. They clinked their glasses of water together for old time's sake, before John took the plunge and pulled her into his arms. It was New Year and they were married, he reasoned. No one was going to object to that.

Anna's arms moved around him tightly, and she buried her head in the crook of his neck as they shared their embrace. He stroked her back tenderly. The scent of her hair – lilacs, soap and Lady Mary's perfume – wafted into his senses. His grip on her tightened. How was it that she was his?

At the feel of his arms tightening around her, Anna looked up. John was startled to see that there were tears in her eyes, but she was also smiling widely.

"Are you all right?" he whispered, unclasping one of his hands so that he could brush his fingers against her cheek. She sighed softly, closing her eyes. A single tear escaped. He was quick to brush it away.

"I'm perfectly all right," she murmured. "I'll always be all right as long as I have you."

"You'll always have me," he said softly. "I promise, Anna."

She didn't seem to care who was watching as she leaned up towards him. He was powerless to stop her as she gently met her lips with his. Quite frankly, he didn't _want_ to stop her. It was a New Year. Their first New Year together as a reunited husband and wife. They should be allowed to open it in such a way if they wanted to. It wasn't as if they were doing anything wrong. The kiss was perfectly chaste, their lips brushing delicately against each other's. Warmth erupted in John's insides. He held her tight to him, and her fingers stroked the back of his neck tenderly, sending shivers down his spine. Their eyes had closed softly as they sought each other out using only taste. The sounds of the other members of staff laughing heartily and speaking loudly were lost on them as they shared their own personal start to the year.

"Oh, for God's sake, will you two stop that?"

It was Miss O'Brien's harsh snap that finally brought them back down to reality barely more than a few moments after they'd started kissing. They broke apart at once, though Anna kept her arms defiantly around her husband's neck.

"Thank you," the lady's maid continued sourly. "I thought my dinner was going to come back up. It's disgusting."

_Not as disgusting as your behaviour,_ Anna wanted to throw back, but she kept silent, knowing that it was childish.

"Thank you, Miss O'Brien." Mr. Carson's booming voice cut across them before anyone could say anything else. "Mr. and Mrs. Bates are permitted to celebrate like this, just this once."

Anna smiled indulgently at O'Brien, knowing that she hated it, and then turned back to kiss John pointedly on the cheek. He blushed a little, but grinned at her. By mutual choice, they turned to greet everyone else with a _Happy New Year_, moving apart to shake hands with Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore, knowing that they would be together again soon enough.

Still, as he moved around the room, John couldn't stop his gaze from flickering towards Anna, watching the way that her face lit up and the way that she laughed along with the others. God, she was beautiful. How had he ended up so lucky after everything that he had done in his life?

She felt his gaze on her, and glanced over her shoulder with a cheeky smile. It took his breath away. He could already tell that this year was going to be the best year of his life.

* * *

Most of the housemaids and the footmen drifted to bed not long after the New Year had been welcomed in, leaving only John, Anna, Miss O'Brien, Mr. Molesley and Lady Edith's maid in the servants' hall, waiting for their call. Even Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes had retired, their duties fulfilled for the night. Lady Edith was the first to ring her bell, and the others followed in quick succession. It seemed that everyone was keen to crawl into bed. Anna couldn't complain. She and John still had to navigate their way home before they could even contemplate retiring for themselves. It would be another good hour before they could achieve the same luxury.

Lady Mary seemed eager to be done as quickly as she could, dismissing Anna as soon as she was into her nightdress. She vaguely told her to leave her hair down when Anna reached to plait it, and Anna couldn't help but smirk knowingly, even though she knew it wasn't her place to do so.

"Anna, don't look at me like that." Lady Mary's tone was exasperated, but she was also grinning a little herself, a slight blush marring her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, milady," Anna said, trying her best to wipe the smirk from her face. "So, are you quite sure that's all you need?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Now go on, get home. I'm sure you and Bates are just as eager to…_celebrate_ your New Year together."

Anna choked, scandalised, blushing furiously. Lady Mary raised her eyebrows at her meaningfully through the mirror. Anna couldn't think of a single reply, so she ended up choking, "_goodnight," _at her before backing as quickly as she could out of the room, ears burning. Though she had initially thought of nothing but going home and collapsing into bed to sleep, now her mind was full of other possibilities. She bit her lip against the mental images of John undressing her and then laying her down on their bed sheets, of her running her hands over him. Oh God, she was never going to sleep now.

John was already waiting for her in the servants' hall when she clattered into the room. He smiled at her, heaving himself to his feet with a groan and resting heavily on his cane.

"Are you all right?" she asked him at once, and he shook her question away.

"Yes, I'm fine," he said. "Just the knee, I'm afraid. I think it's going to give me hell for a couple of days."

He reached for her hand when he approached her, and she laced their fingers together, smiling softly up at him, squeezing his hand in silent concern.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go home."

Even now, those words sent shivers down her spine. She truly couldn't believe that they'd been graced with such good luck, that they were able to return to a home of their own every evening, where they could shut out the outside world and pretend that it was only the two of them. She waited while John locked the abbey from outside – his job on the nights when they were the last people leaving – and watched as he pocketed the keys securely. Then she slipped her hand back into his, and the two of them made their way home.

While Anna loved the walk to and from the house in the summer, when it was sometimes still light and the birds chirped in the trees and the flowers looked beautiful in bloom, she hated it in winter. The ground was always wet with rain, and countless times she had almost slipped over in the mud, John's hand securely wrapped around hers the only thing that had stopped her pitching face-first into the mud. They also had to walk much more slowly in the winter, John cautious of his stick losing purchase on the ground, and the journey that usually took them twenty minutes could sometimes take them a whole hour. The moonlight was often smothered by the clouds on dark nights too, and the two of them would stumble blindly through the darkness, hoping that they were lucky enough to avoid any potholes.

Tonight was no different, but at the same time unlike any other. Anna and John held each other tight all the way, and while they usually filled the journey home with conversation about their day, tonight seemed much different, made more intimate by their half-whispers and the way that they brushed against each other. With each step, Anna was more eager than ever to return home. Lady Mary's words still rang loudly in her head.

The cottages were all in darkness when they reached the little row of them, so Anna and John stopped talking completely, aware that their neighbours might be asleep. Anna waited as John fished in his pocket for the key, shivering in the cold air. It took John a couple of tries to get the key in the lock, and then he pushed open the door. Anna darted past him, standing in the dark hallway while her husband shut the door behind them, locking it securely. They removed their coats and hats, hanging them on the hooks by the door, and John moved towards the living room.

"It's freezing in here," he complained, fumbling with the oil lamp so that the room was flooded with light. "And look, we don't have any coal for the fire. Typical. I suppose I should go and fetch some so that we can get the fire going."

Anna shook her head, moving to wrap her arms around him, resting her head against his back. "There's no point. It's not like we can have a fire in the bedroom, and we're not going to be down here long enough to appreciate it. Let's just go upstairs."

He sighed. "No, I'll go and fetch the coal now. I'll only have to do it tomorrow night, so I might as well save myself a job."

Anna shook her head again. "Honestly, John, must you always be so stubborn?" But she loved him for it.

He chuckled a little, stroking her hands around his stomach. "I can make you a cup of tea to make up for it, if you'd like."

"No, I just want to crawl into bed."

"All right," he shrugged. "You go on up now. I'll be five minutes."

Anna let go of him and he followed her back into the narrow hall. She moved towards the stairs.

"Don't be too long," she said with a grin. "It's going to be cold upstairs, and I'll need you to keep me warm."

"I won't be," he said.

She left him then as he collected the coal scuttle and an oil lamp, mounting the stairs to their bedroom. It stood at the end of the cottage, and it still thrilled Anna to step into it and know that this was _their_ shared space, _their_ safe haven, where they were free to talk and dream and make love whenever the need overtook them. It wasn't much to look at – it was only big enough to hold the bed, a wardrobe, two little bedside cabinets and a tiny vanity table – but it was still their own space, and they had made it more than adequately homely. Anna had bought some lovely bed sheets, initially blushing at the thought of what would take place between them, and John had indulged Anna and helped her to pick the curtains, teasing her as she'd chosen and then dismissed about twenty different ones before settling on the ones that fluttered in the window. They had pushed all of their clothes into the tiny wardrobe, and laughed when John found a corset amongst his waistcoats, or Anna found a pair of his shorts among her undergarments. They had decorated their little sets of drawers to their liking, John framing his picture of Anna despite the fact that it had grown grimy from its time spent in that dank prison cell and insisting that she had another, fresher one taken so that he could stand them side by side; Anna had rolled her eyes at the pointlessness of having two pictures but had indulged him, and had even convinced him that they should have one taken together. That one was framed on her side of the bed. John had lovingly placed the letters that Anna had sent to him during his incarceration in a little box under the bed, each one painstakingly sorted into date order; Anna had done the same with his, unable to bear the thought of being parted from them. His books lay scattered around the room, piled on the floor and overflowing from his bedside cabinet, making the room seem untidy and even smaller than it actually was, but Anna didn't have the heart to chide him, though she had made him promise to move them into the spare room, out of the way. The vanity was overflowing with Anna's things, from her hairbrush to the bottle of scent that John had insisted on buying for her on their last trip into Ripon, even though she had protested that it was too much. John's pomade was squashed in one corner, and Anna liked to watch him applying it, teasing him and reminding him to wear his hair looser because it made him look even handsomer. He would smile in exasperated love through the mirror, but he would comply anyway.

No, it wasn't much, but it was awash with the memories that they had made for themselves.

Anna shivered as she began to undress. The room was freezing. Even with the curtains drawn, the cold wasn't being kept out. Hastily lighting a couple of candles, Anna hurriedly pulled off her uniform, searching around for where she'd left her nightgown. And then she was struck with a thought. She _did_ want to make love with John tonight. It would be the perfect way to mark the start of their first year living together properly as husband and wife. She and John hadn't really had much time over the last few days to take their time and enjoy each other – a hurried, heated fumble that had almost made them late for work a couple of days ago was the best that they had managed. She knew that she would be in a mood of epic proportions tomorrow if she didn't have any sleep. But that seemed insignificant now when compared to her desire to feel John around her. She giggled to herself as she thought about how quickly the room would warm up. Leaving her nightgown in its current location on the floor in the corner (she must have been half-asleep if she hadn't even taken the time to wrap it up neatly), she peeled back the covers and slipped between the sheets, completely naked. Goosebumps erupted there as soon as she pulled the sheets over herself, and she shivered violently. Perhaps this hadn't been the best idea after all. She'd be frozen to death before John even made it anywhere near the bedroom. Cursing mildly, she drew the sheets over herself as tightly as she could, huddling up on her side and waiting, before snaking her hands underneath John's pillow to root around for his own nightclothes. It seemed like an eternity had passed before she heard the door closing again downstairs, and the tell-tale half-step of her husband as he moved about below her. She silently willed him to hurry up, and thankfully it was only a couple of minutes before he was in the threshold, bending his head a little as he came through the doorway.

"It's getting colder by the second out there," he said as he stood his cane in one of the corners of the room, moving to sit on the edge of the bed so that he could kick his shoes off.

"Well, it's not getting any warmer in here," Anna complained. "Can't you hurry up? I need warming up!"

He smirked at her. "I'm not sure how suitable a candidate I am for warming you up right now. My hands are absolutely freezing. I'm afraid you'll be pushing me away from you almost as soon as I get in bed tonight."

She watched with interest as he pulled off his stiff collar, then set to work on his tie and shirt. There was something utterly fascinating about watching him strip and knowing that everything beneath those clothes was hers to touch. Her heart pounded with more vigour than ever at the thought of that, and she couldn't help but grin as he stripped quickly down to his shorts, moving his pillow to one side in search of his pyjamas. Anna giggled a little at his confused expression – he always put his pyjamas neatly there – and he turned to look at her with raised eyebrows.

"All right," he said, "where are they?"

"Come and look for them," she said, hoping that her voice was sultry enough.

He shook his head, chuckling a little. "You're impossible. But have it your way." Standing, he moved and grasped the edge of the bed sheets, flinging them back from Anna's body. She braced herself for the cold air, but couldn't stop herself from gasping as it immediately bit into her skin. Her gasp mingled with John's, but his was for an entirely different reason. His eyes were trained on her nakedness, and she could feel her skin humming where his gaze drifted over her. Certain parts of her had already responded to the cold, and she knew that John couldn't take his eyes off them.

"You don't need your pyjamas," she breathed rather unnecessarily. "Now come here before I catch my death."

Wordlessly, John moved forward to do just that. He seemed enchanted by the curves of her body, the slope of her breasts. When he was beside her, he pulled the covers back over them, wrapping his arms around her.

"You're cold!" she protested, but she didn't have the heart to push him away.

"I told you I was," he mused, moving to kiss her.

"Never mind," she sighed. "I'm sure we can think of some way to warm up."

"I'm sure we can," he smirked, shifting over her.

She kept him at bay by placing her palm against his chest, shivering at the feel of his coarse hairs beneath her fingertips. "Isn't your knee hurting you?"

John huffed in frustration. "I can manage."

"I never suggested that you couldn't. But I think I should take care of you tonight."

His smirk widened again, and he shifted eagerly onto his back as Anna rolled over onto her side. "Oh you do, do you?"

"Yes," she purred, swinging herself over so that she was lying on top of him. "Now, Mr. Bates, relax and enjoy."

* * *

The room was much warmer now. Anna lay on her side, sheets pulled tight around her, content to watch as John lay on his back with his arms above his head. He had decided that now he was too warm, and although she had warned him that he wasn't stealing _her_ body heat when he decided that he was cold again, she couldn't help but appreciate the view that she was getting of him like this, naked and at complete ease.

Yawning widely now, she lifted her head wearily to read the clock on John's side of the bed. It was already gone three in the morning. She and John would need to be rising for work in just two and a half hours. The notion wasn't a welcome one.

There was silence now that their lovemaking was over. Sometimes they would continue whispering together in the aftermath of their exertion, and other times they would lie silently side by side, wrapped in each other's arms, lost in their own thoughts. Anna liked both ways well enough. The whispering meant that they could share dreams and hopes with each other. The silence meant that they were free to contemplate their own thoughts while still being connected by touch.

Tonight was one of the more contemplative nights, but Anna didn't mind. It was fitting in a way. So much had happened in such a short space of time, and now, lying there in the early hours of a brand new year, it gave her the opportunity to reflect on how far they had come in such a startlingly short space of time.

It had been three months since her husband's release from prison. Such a small length of time, and yet it felt like he had always been right there beside her, living and laughing and loving in their little cottage. In that time, they had been more than content to reacquaint themselves with each other, to spend their spare time decorating their little home, or sitting in their tiny sitting room together, Anna leaning against John's body as they squashed themselves onto the broken sofa that they had not yet found the money to replace. Anna had never been more content in her entire life. This was what she'd been living for all through John's incarceration: the moments that they could spend together properly as a married couple without society frowning down upon them. And yet, at the same time, Anna knew that she wanted more. Or, at the very least, she wanted to try for more.

She wondered if she was craving those things too early.

No, she wasn't. A baby. A baby for her and John. John holding his child in his arms for the first time. Doing everything in his power to be a good father. Seeing him rocking it to sleep. Perhaps even singing an off-key lullaby. Eager to help change it. Gently forcing plump little limbs into all manner of tiny baby clothes. His eyes shining with love as he tucked the baby in for a well-deserved nap. And then holding the baby at night time in one arm, the other wrapped around her shoulders, just the three of them together, a proper little family, all warm and safe.

Anna was all too aware of the fact that time was passing her by. She and John were so happy together, and she knew that they always would be, but she feared that if they didn't start at least trying to expand their family, then time would run out on them. Hadn't it run out on Lady Grantham when she'd only been twenty-eight? That was awfully young. And she was well beyond that age now. What if she'd left it too late too?

She sighed heavily into the darkness, not even realising that she sounded so morose. Beside her, John shifted, twisting his head so that he could look down on her with soft concern.

"Anna, is there something wrong?" he asked her.

"Why would you think that?"

"Well, you're sighing as if you've been told that we're heading for another war. Was everything…good?"

She had to smile a little into the darkness. John sounded so shy. "Of course everything was good. It always is."

She sensed him nodding in the darkness, and they lapsed back into silence. Anna let her eyes drift closed, concentrating on her thoughts. They had not discussed their distant future at all since that day all those years ago, when they had sat together in the servants' hall, before Vera's return, making plans that included children and a quaint little hotel. Had John's perceptions changed at all in the years that had passed? What if his dream wasn't the same as it once had been? Would that matter to her? She supposed it wouldn't, not really. While the whole thing was still something that was extremely attractive to her, it wouldn't be impossible if it was no longer as important to John. He had spent eighteen months languishing in a prison cell. His perceptions on things must have changed at some point. Anna didn't like to ask him about that time, and John didn't like to tell. It was as if they both thought that not acknowledging that horrible year would make it go away entirely. Talking about the future had always pitted the fates against them. Now that they were living so happily in the present, it was as if they didn't want to tempt fate by beginning to speak of things that they might want at some point later on in time. And yet, there was something magical about tonight, as if all of their thoughts and dreams would be protected because it was a New Year and, more importantly, it was their very first New Year spent together as a married couple. Anna couldn't help but smile to herself, then let her gaze wander back to her husband. He was still lying flat on his back. The dying sputter of the candles let her see that his eyes were also closed as he crossed his arms above his head. Anna shook her head. Even now she sometimes had to stop from pinching herself. This was real. Their whole life together was _real_.

She was loathe to break the silence, but she felt that she just had to share the thoughts in her head. Thoughts of the pitter-patter of little feet and the warmth of a cosy hotel.

"John?" she said. Her voice cut through the darkness, and even though she was whispering, it still felt too loud for the quiet darkness of their room.

"Hmm?" John's noise of acknowledgement was both sleepy and almost unintelligible.

She rolled onto her stomach so that she could see him better, folding her arms beneath her chin so that she could rest herself there. "How do you feel about children?"

The silence lingered on and on for a moment, and Anna began to wish that she hadn't let the words slip out of her mouth. But she'd been unable to help it, the thoughts overwhelming her until she'd just had to speak her mind about it.

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Although his tone was light, there was an air of trepidation underlying his words.

"What do you mean?" she asked, though her heart had begun to speed up in her chest – why, she wasn't quite sure.

He shifted so that he was on his side facing her, propping himself up on his elbow. The flickering, dying light of the candles meant that his face was dancing in shadows. She couldn't make out his features well enough to know what his expression was like. "Are you saying that you're pregnant?"

Her heart lurched at his words. "No, I'm not. It's just a question, John."

She felt him relax slightly. "Oh."

"Are you glad?" she asked. She wasn't sure why she did. Today had been so joyful and wonderful. What if she undid that beauty with her inability to let things rest? Surely it was a matter that could be discussed at another time?

It was too late to retract it now, for John was shifting beside her, slipping himself back under the warmth of their sheets and reaching out to touch her. His skin was clammy now, but she didn't mind. His touch was always soothing, no matter the circumstances.

"I'm glad," he said slowly, and her heart plummeted into her stomach. Unbidden, tears pricked her eyes. She knew it, she'd ruined everything over some fanciful fantasies. She wanted to pull away from him, to put some distance between their bodies so that she could come to terms with what he'd said. It seemed, however, that he hadn't finished speaking, for he edged closer to her and let his lips ghost over her temple. "But only because it means that we now have the opportunity to think about what we'll do in the future."

She hadn't realised that she'd started to cry until John brushed the pad of his thumb so utterly gently over her cheek. She turned into his touch completely then, wriggling closer to him, throwing her arms around his neck, uncaring that he was cold.

"So you're not averse to the idea of having a baby?"

"Of course not," he said. "Believe me, Anna, there's nothing I want more than a family with you. It's just that we haven't discussed a family in so long, it was just a bit startling when you brought it up like that."

"So you really wouldn't have minded if I was pregnant?"

He shook his head, squeezing her tighter. "I would have been overjoyed if you were pregnant. But, honestly, I would have been terrified too. It would have been so unexpected."

She arched an eyebrow, though she wasn't sure that he could see it. "You would have found it unexpected when we've made love a million times since we moved in here?"

Even in the darkness, she knew that he'd be blushing. "Anna, don't exaggerate. We haven't made love a million times. Even I wouldn't be surprised if you'd fallen pregnant after that."

She grinned, hiding it against his throat. "Well, it certainly feels like a million times. A wonderful million."

He couldn't help grinning too, especially when her hand brushed experimentally lower. "I thought we were supposed to be talking right now?"

"I can multi-task," she purred in reply. "It's one of the perks of being a woman."

His laughter was throaty and loud, but he gently pushed her hand away before it could travel much lower. "Well, I'm a man, and I'm afraid that I can only concentrate on one thing at once. And if you keep your hand down there, it certainly won't be the conversation."

She giggled. He loved to hear that sound, to know that he made her happy enough to laugh. It had been one of his silent vows when he had been released from prison, to make her laugh and smile as much as he possibly could. He had already stolen too much of her light and life over the eight – almost nine – years that he had known her.

"So what did you want to discuss?" he asked. "I'm assuming that you brought the topic of a baby up for a reason."

She nodded, looking self-conscious. "I did, but we can talk about it another day."

"No, let's talk about it now," he said. "If you've got something on your mind, I'd prefer it if I could ease your burden."

"It's hardly a burden," she protested.

"Please, Anna. It must be something that you've been thinking about. So, please, share it with me."

She sighed, fingers trembling against his shoulders. "I was just getting a bit carried away. I was lying here thinking about how wonderful our life has been since your release, and then I started to think about how wonderful it would be to see you with a baby."

"Oh, I don't know about that," he said lightly, but she could tell that his words were more self-deprecating than his tone allowed. "I wouldn't know where to begin with a child."

"But I thought you just said that you wanted them?" she asked, twisting in his arms.

"I'm not just saying it to please you, Anna. Of course I want a family with you. But I thought the chance of fatherhood had passed me by a long time ago. It's a rather terrifying prospect for me."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "You've fought in a war and were injured. You put up with Thomas and Miss O'Brien every day. You've been in prison. And yet you're terrified of a little baby?"

"Well, every man who says that the idea of being a father doesn't terrify them is lying, no matter their background," said John with a chuckle. "Believe me, there's nothing more terrifying in the whole world."

Anna couldn't help laughing too. "Shouldn't we women be more terrified? We're the ones who have to give birth, after all."

"I believe that men grossly underestimate women," he said musingly.

"I'm glad to hear you say that," she teased. But then the smile slipped from her face as she stared up at him. "But why does the thought of a baby terrify you so much if you want one?"

He looked rather ashamed of himself, staring at a point over her shoulder. A crack of moonlight peered through the window. "Because they're so tiny, and I'm so big and clumsy. What if I did something wrong and hurt it? What if I can't be a good father? What if it looks at me and sees nothing but a worthless man? What if it doesn't want me in its life?"

"All right, stop right there," she interrupted. "There's not a doubt in my mind that you will be a wonderful father."

"How can you know that?" he countered, and though his tone was still light, the absolute agony in his words was evident.

"I know," she said slowly, "because you are a good man."

"I haven't always been."

"Perhaps not. But you are a good man now, and I know you would help our children to make the right decisions in their lives."

"Children? We're talking about more than one now?"

She smiled, nuzzling against his throat. "Well, it wouldn't surprise me if we had a few children pattering about."

He chuckled. "Then we're going to have to get to work soon before I feel too old to be a father. I'm old enough now as it is."

Anna paused for a moment, glancing shyly up into his face. "Then why don't we?"

"Why don't we what?"

"Why don't we start trying properly for a baby?"

There was silence for a moment. Anna wanted to avert her gaze from her husband's, suddenly embarrassed by her audacity, but she seemed unable to. John's eyes were trained on her. She couldn't read his expression. She shouldn't have said anything. It should have been enough that they had made the step of discussing a family. What if he needed time to grow used to the idea?

"All right."

The word was issued so quietly that Anna thought that she had misheard. Shifting, she propped herself up on her elbow, peering into his face.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He smirked at her, and she was relieved to see that he looked at ease. "Well, unless it's acquired a new meaning that I am as of yet unaware of, I thought that _all right_ meant just that."

"So we're really going to try for a baby?"

"Well, it's going to be a lot of fun to try," he growled against her throat. "And then the reward will be simply wonderful."

"You do realise that it might never happen for us?"

"I thought you were supposed to be the optimistic one," he mused, coaxing her down to lay by his side again. "I know it's probably going to take time. A lot of time."

"Time that we don't necessarily have."

He laughed. "Of course we have time. We have plenty of time."

"But it hasn't happened for us yet. What if I'm too old now?" She felt her stomach drop at the prospect. It was almost unbearable to think of never having John's child, of never holding a warm, wriggling bundle in her arms, of never tickling plump limbs or cooing over tiny fingers and toes, of never arguing happily with her husband over who the baby looked like the most. The lump in her throat was hard and unforgiving, but she managed to swallow it away before it choked her.

"Anna, don't be silly. You're still young."

"I'm not," she muttered. "I keep remembering that I'm creeping towards forty."

He laughed again, physically shaking. "Anna, you're barely thirty-five. Believe me, I wish _I_ was thirty-five again. Or even forty, for that matter."

"You're perfect just the way you are now," she said, running her hands down his chest, moving to press her lips against his jaw. "I wouldn't change you at all."

"That's nice to hear," he growled, shifting. She squealed loudly as she was pushed down onto her back. He bent to kiss her. She kept him at bay, giggling.

"What now?" he growled at her, pretending to be annoyed.

"Nothing," she said breathlessly. "I'm just taking in the view."

"It's not much of a view," he said sardonically.

She nuzzled up against him. "It's a perfect view to me."

He bent down and kissed her gently, and she lost herself in his taste. Presently, however, he pulled away from her, and she whined a little in the back of her throat at the loss of contact – she'd just begun to feel as though the glowing embers in the pit of her stomach were being rekindled.

"Besides, I never had children with Vera," he said, continuing the earlier conversation. "I thank God for that now because it would have been an awful environment for any child to grow up in, but what if the reason that Vera never conceived lies with me?"

"You can't think like that," she told him, though she was biting her lip. "You'll drive yourself mad if you do."

"You were worrying about your age a moment ago."

She sighed. "I think we both need to promise that we won't get too anxious about it. At least not right now."

"How will that make a difference?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. But I overheard Lady Mary and Mr. Matthew discussing it one morning. Mr. Matthew was saying that they needed to keep relaxed because it wasn't helping. So that's what we'll do. We'll continue on as normal, just enjoying ourselves and not worrying about it. And if it hasn't happened within the next year, then I suppose we can go and see Dr. Clarkson, to see if he has anything to say. And if we can't have children, then we'll just have to come to terms with it."

"You're suddenly very optimistic."

"Well, there's no sense in feeling negative now over something that might never happen. I'm not being naïve; I know it might not happen. But we've not tried yet. Maybe I'll need some reassurance in the future. Maybe you will. But as long as I remember that you're the one I wanted first and foremost, I know I can't complain. You're here with me, and that's all that I wanted."

She felt his smile against her temple. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"I think you've told me a time or two," she teased. "But it's always nice to hear it again."

"Never forget it."

"Never. And _you_ never forget I love you either."

He chuckled. "Well, I do have the tendency to doubt. You might need to reassure me every once in a while."

"I'm sure I can stretch to that. As well as a clip around the ear for you being a daft old thing."

He kissed her hairline, breathing in the scent of the sweat and the musk of their lovemaking on her body. She rested against him, burying her nose in his throat.

"You're right, you know," he said at length.

"Right about what?"

"About not worrying about things that might not even happen. About simply enjoying the efforts of extending our family."

She leaned up to peer into his face. "You truly want that?"

He nodded, reaching up to meet her lips softly. "I want that, Anna. I want that so very much."

"So we're agreed?" she asked, unable to keep the wide grin from her face.

"I think we are," he said, his own smile threatening to crack his face in two. "We're going to try for a baby!"

Hearing those words coming from her husband's mouth made her heart swell in her chest. A baby. She as a mother. John as a father. She couldn't think of anything more perfect. Sharing the secret between them until they could announce that they were expecting an addition to the family. Anna retiring from life in service so that she could focus on getting their little cottage perfect for their new arrival. John shifting their things from the spare room so that they could transform it into a nursery. The two of them picking out baby names and Anna knitting endless booties for their child. It all seemed so perfect, and it was all possible.

John's arms were still around her, and he pulled her closer so that he could pepper her hairline with tender kisses.

"You're going to be the most perfect mother," he murmured, squeezing her tight.

"And you're going to be the most perfect father," she countered, twisting her head so that she could plant a firm kiss against his mouth.

He couldn't really agree with that, but he knew it was better not to argue with her, so he gave her one last kiss before letting her go and settling back down on his pillow.

"And just what are you doing?" she asked him, sitting up beside him. The sheets pooled majestically around her waist. He tried not to stare.

"Well, I was thinking that it might be a good idea to at least try to sleep tonight. We're due back up at the big house at quarter to seven, whether it's New Year's Day or not. And now that we have to rise even earlier than usual just to make sure we're there on time…"

Anna glanced at the clock. "We're already going to have less than two hours' sleep if we go to bed now."

"Your point?"

"My point is, what's the point? We might as well stay awake now."

"That's very unlike you."

"Perhaps I'm turning over a new leaf."

"And what do you propose we do?"

She bit back a smirk, lying back down on her side and moulding herself against the length of his back, pushing her breasts provocatively up against him. "I can think of a few things."

The feel of her soft, naked skin could always work wonders. "Oh?" he asked, trying to keep his breathing steady as her fingers snaked stealthily down his front. "And what would those be?"

"Well," she said, "if we're going to have a baby, we're going to have to practise. Very frequently. And what better time to start than the present?"

He groaned as she closed her fingers around him. "I have to admit that the present does sound like a very good time to start."

"I'm glad that we're in agreement," she said, withdrawing her hand and rolling over onto her back. Startled by the sudden loss of warmth against his back, John rolled over to survey her.

"God, you're beautiful," he breathed, taking in the sight of her lying there with her hair tangled around her like a golden halo and the sheets barely covering the swell of her breasts.

She smirked at him, though she couldn't help flushing. "There's plenty of time for you to sweet talk me, Mr. Bates. But right now, I think you could be using the time more…actively."

He chuckled. "You're a very demanding woman, Mrs. Bates."

"So, what are you waiting for?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she purred, "I was the one who did all the work last time. I think this time around I should be permitted to simply lie back and enjoy."

John's smirk met her own as he bent in to kiss her.

"Well," he said when they parted, running his hands down her sides and making her giggle, "I can certainly promise that you'll enjoy."

* * *

**A/N:** Well, not the best thing that I've ever written. But Happy New Year to you all anyway! Hope you've had a fantastic time, and here's to an even better 2013!

I have an important announcement to make sometime in the next week or so. I'll be posting it on Tumblr, but I'll be linking it at the top of my FF profile, so if you're interested, you'll be able to find it there.

Thanks for being awesome, guys.


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